


Locked out

by qwertysweetea



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Hannibal Extended Universe, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: “All others find themselves otherwise preoccupied with companions.”“You needn’t say it in such flower language Galahad. I was the only one you did not think would have someone else in their bed.” Tristan said, shutting the door gently and locking it before taking a step towards him.“Let’s not pretend…” Galahad started, making an obvious display of looking at the other’s bed before taking a step towards him “…it wasn’t a certainty.”Galahad locks himself out of his room and ends up spending the night in Tristan's. Some interesting feelings come to light. Just... pure self-indulgent, inexcusable fluff.





	Locked out

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even defend myself because I don't know why or how this happened.

Of all the people who had tried to gain entry to his rooms over the years, Galahad was the last one he expected. Even the night Bors had stumbled up to it looking for his wife only to pass out leaning against his door hadn’t been overly surprising and proved, in time, to be a good story to bring up whenever the other needed taking down a peg or two.

Opening up the door to Galahad, arms crossed over his chest and chin tilted up look an entitled child resigned to explain himself but still completely confident in his right not too, was as high up on the list of things he wasn’t expecting as the Pope showing up to hand over Tristan’s discharge papers himself.

“I’m locked out of my room.”

Tristan took a moment to look at him. “Good for you.” He replied, attempting to push the door closed. Galahad was not nearly as drunk and vulnerable as he’d seen him before. It was a problem he was more than capable of solving.

Galahad’s hand pressed back into it, stopping him. It would have been easy to close if there was any heart between Tristan’s attempts. Tired, he reasoned. He was tired and had very little energy, even less that he was willing to waste on an unnecessary argument.

He gave a resigned sigh and opened it fully, allowing the other in.

Galahad wasted no time, practically pushing past him and up to the fire.

“One wonders why, of the five other men in our company, you picked the least likely to let you in.”

“Then one has made the mistake of thinking he was the first option,” Galahad replied, easily taking on his tone.

Tristan stood by the door, still just open and waited for the other to elaborate.

Noticing that he was on thin ice and unhappy with the prospect of spending the night on the floor by his door, Galahad's stubbornness started to cave. He directed his attention to everywhere except the scout across from him. “All others find themselves otherwise preoccupied with companions.”

“You needn’t say it in such flower language Galahad. I was the only one you did not think would have someone else in their bed.” Tristan said, shutting the door gently and locking it before taking steps towards him.

Galahad smirked despite himself, eyes flicking over at the mattress and its mess of fur throws. He’s obviously disturbed Tristan in his sleep, or at very least near sleep. He found himself wondering at what point he’d woken the other in order for him to get dressed so quickly. He had probably heard him on the stairs.

If the conversation looked in danger of becoming civil he would ask him out of pure curiosity, but from the way that Tristan’s eyebrows had raised and his arms had come to cross his chest in a way that mirrored Galahad’s, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“Let’s not pretend…” Galahad started, making an obvious display of looking at the other’s bed before taking a step towards him “…it wasn’t going to be a certainty.”

“There is no shame in that, Galahad, if that is what you are insinuating.”

“Not at all. Just very convenient for me in this particular circumstance.” His attention slowly started to divert, eyes flicking over the room, taking it in and feeling mildly surprised to find barely any marks of the others inhabitants on it and yet it still managed to feel warm and inviting.

He stepped forward a few more steps, attention thoroughly caught by his surroundings before a cough from the other drew him back. Galahad snapped back to the moment, finding himself standing closer than before and Tristan looking down at him in the same reflective manner.

“Of course…” He continued “…you could lend me something to cover myself with and I will sleep on the floor by the fire.”

“We might not be overly friendly Galahad, that doesn’t mean I would have you catch a chill. I believe we are capable of sharing a bed with a certain amount of civility.”

.

Another presence beside him was unusual to Tristan, throwing off his senses and his focus. It was uneasy in a way he was sure he would get used to with time, and yet that thought coming to him at all was much more unsettling.

There was a reason he didn’t often have people in his bed. It was a risk, a distraction, and an opportunity for attachment, all things that could prove detrimental. Even with that in mind, this wasn’t just some random woman he would be permitted to fantasise about falling in love and sharing a life with. This was Galahad; a man, a friend, a brother-in-arms, and someone he certainly shouldn’t ever imagine getting used to sleeping beside.

Every movement, sound, everything as small as a twitch had him stirring awake. If he had the energy he might have got up and fixed the other’s door for the sheer relief of not having that heated body next to his, playing with his mind and disturbing his sleep.

He fell asleep with jaw strained, teeth gritting and breath deep in an attempt to control the urge and woke up again with it amplified after another gentle kick to his legs, or shift of his arms, or a mumble.

The fourth time Galahad’s stirs woke him he was in the process of pushing his sheets back when an arm came around him and closed onto his waist. The tug on his hips was weak but it was enough to pull him back into the other.

He felt Galahad’s chest press into his back, muscles of his arm tightening and loosening in soft pulses as he adjusted himself to lie fully against the man in his arms. Whatever plans Tristan had where pushed out of his head by the sudden, violent volume of the blood pulsing in his ears.

So far gone were his thoughts it didn’t occur to him to think that Galahad might be unaware of who he was, any more than it occurred to him that it may have been an excuse to get Tristan in this position from the beginning. Nothing crossed his mind but the frantic, stern words he was giving himself in an attempt to block out the screaming, hopeful familiarity he found in it.

And there was a familiarity in it. It was all he could feel.

Completely contrast to the irritating shifting and stirring as they lay next to each other, having Galahad’s strong arm holding him close while he felt the steady rise and fall of the others chest against his back was overwhelmingly wonderful. He felt like he could sleep in those arms and would wake up lamenting the time when he would have to let go. Waves of contentment washed over him as he allowed his eyes to close.

Without allowing himself to think on it, his hand resting on the mattress in front of him trailed down to the one resting against his stomach. He threaded his fingers with Galahad’s and smiled as he fell asleep.

.

Waking up to find the arm still around him was a different type of blissful than he’d experience before. It had never been anything but restricting and suffocating until now. It was nothing of what people mentioned about when they talked about companionship, but then again, there was nothing usual about this type of companionship, was there?

A part of him knew that this confirmed all he had felt within himself from such a young age that he’d tried to ignore both when he forced himself into the company of women and when he denied himself entirely.

Maybe it was just another male presence, maybe it was Galahad…

That thought struck something, deep in his chest. It panged like someone snapping the strings of an instrument: maybe it was Galahad.

Feisty, already old beyond his years and as fed up as the rest of them. He’d go on to marry some busty barmaid and sire several children in some quiet village off where the only conflict would be over the covers at night when they were finally free. She’d probably calm his temper and turn him soft, and Tristan could imagine it suiting him very well.

A knot started forming in his throat and he coughed to try and clear it.

“What are you thinking about?”

The voice made Tristan jump and the arms around him tightened in response. For the first time in a long time, Tristan had disappeared into his thoughts so completely that he hadn’t noticed Galahad’s gentle shifts from beside him as he had woken up.

“I can hear your mind racing. What thoughts are bothering you?”

He stared forward, not replying. He didn’t know what to say, even if he did there was no way to say it without condemning himself completely. Damned if he was honest, damned if he lied.

“Has my bluntness startled you?” Galahad said, breath tickling Tristan between the shoulder blades. The humour was clear in voice, even while it was still husky with sleep. “He, who I thought could never be caught off guard, taken by surprise by the ‘pup’.”

At that Tristan pushed himself up, throwing Galahad’s arm off him in the process and sat with legs over the bed and elbows on his thighs as he tried to rub calm his raging mind. He missed the others touch so instantly and intensely it made his stomach hurt.

“What? Are you ashamed now?” Galahad started.

“Stop mocking me.” He snapped back, voice still too tired for it to punch like he wanted it to. “For once can you try to appreciate that the situation may not require your blunt and dry humour!”

Galahad sat up in retaliation, the throws falling around his waist leaving the cold to bite at his chest. “Do you really think I am so cruel?” He snapped back. “That I would hold you close to me only to mock you for it in the morning. Is that how you see me?”

“I don’t know how to see you,” and the honest dripped off of his tongue with it with a sincerity that made the ache in his stomach flare. Again the thought hit him like a slap in the face. Maybe it was Galahad. Maybe it was him projecting his newly ignited feelings onto the other, but maybe, just maybe it wasn’t.

There was a pregnant pause, thick and heavy in which both heard nothing but the breathing of the other.

The mattress shifted behind him. Tristan didn’t know how long either of them had sat in silence before the other’s chilled hands slipped back onto his sides. “It’s too early to be up, even for you.”

“Are you asking me to come back to bed?” Tristan huffed, half disbelief and half humour.

Galahad replied with a single breathy laugh, pressing his forehead into the back of Tristan’s shoulder with it.

“Because I will, if you’re honest with me.”

Another pause. Galahad waited for his question.

“How did you get locked out of your room?”

“I lost my key.” The other mumbled back, forehead slowly peeling off of him only to be replaced by his lips.

The kiss was simple, close-mouthed and sweet, like the type that is placed on the wounds of people they love when they’re wishing them better. Tristan shuddered against it, relishing in the sudden tightness of the others encompassing arms and the chest pressed, once again, flush against his back in retaliation to his twitches.

“Your key?” Tristan mused. “You mean like the one digging into my back.”

At that, Galahad lifted his head off the other’s shoulder and looked down his front. Taking in the thin leather cord tied around his neck and the key trapped between their bodies, he smiled.


End file.
